


First Sparks

by Kaz_Langston



Series: Light The Fire (Paul / Alec) [2]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Alec Hardy Gets A Hug, Alec Hardy Needs A Hug, Bisexual Alec Hardy, Blow Jobs, M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:15:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21876499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaz_Langston/pseuds/Kaz_Langston
Summary: Paul and Alec go on a date. It goes surprisingly well.
Relationships: Paul Coates/Alec Hardy
Series: Light The Fire (Paul / Alec) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1575979
Comments: 6
Kudos: 82





	First Sparks

They meet at a small restaurant at the edge of Broadchurch. Italian, nice enough but not so fancy that either of them will feel out of place.

Paul gets there first, in skinny jeans and a green jumper that he knows brings out his eyes. He sits at the table under Hardy's name but Alec isn't far behind, dressed more casually than usual in dark trousers and a blue jumper over a shirt. He looks younger without the crumpled suit and tie, though still worn.

He scans Paul quickly as he sits down, eyes catching on the empty space at the base of his throat where the dog collar usually resides, and Paul gives him a kind smile. "Feel a bit naked without it but it only seems fair, when you're out of uniform too."

Hardy tugs self consciously at his jumper, eyes unsettled. "Should have worn a suit."

"You look good," Paul reassures him.

Suddenly remembering his manners, Hardy nods at him. "You too."

Dinner is quiet but pleasant, conversation flowing easily, though it's probably mostly down to Paul's practiced skill. There's prawn linguine on the menu, healthy enough for Alec, and lasagne, a solid choice for a vicar who's spent too long visiting his parishioners to eat lunch. They don't mention the wine menu. Hardy eyes the affogato longingly but settles eventually on sorbet, Paul polishing off a tiramisu. He offers a spoonful of it with a questioning brow but Hardy declines."

They don't touch. There's no hand holding, no nudge of feet under the table, but occasionally their eyes meet and nervous half smiles inspire frissions of anticipation. There's been too much between them, not all of it good, for them to not understand one another, to not understand what this is."

At the end of the evening Hardy's place is between the restaurant and the vicarage, slightly out of Paul's way, but they turn down his road without comment."

"Want to come in for..." he's going to say 'a drink' but that would be a ridiculous suggestion for a multitude of reasons, so he inelegantly stumbles into "...tea?"

Paul, though his stomach is all butterflies, just smiles calmly. "Tea would be lovely." He follows Hardy through to the kitchen, lounging easily back on his hands as Hardy fills the kettle, fetches mugs and slides across a cardboard box filled with colourful smaller boxes.

There's about sixteen different flavours of herbal tea in there, and Paul huffs out an impressed laugh. "Starting to think I might have a problem," Hardy says ruefully.

"No, it's good." Paul rummages for a minute, drags out something with 'night time' in the name and moves to drop it the mugs.

Hardy hasn't moved away, and they're standing close, his shoulder to Hardy's chest, and if Paul just turned his head they'd be sharing the same air.

He thinks about stepping back but then there's a gentle pressure at the small of his back, a large hand curved against his spine, and he turns towards Alec, head tipping back as he reaches for a slim waist.

Their lips press gently at first, soft skin and stubble, but it doesn't take long for one of them to push harder, for hands to tighten on clothing and for their bodies to crush together, tongues slipping through lips like fine, forbidden wine.

They're interrupted by the kettle boiling and suddenly they're laughing helplessly, a snort from Paul balancing Alec's surprisingly breathy giggle.

"This is ridiculous," Paul gasps out eventually. "We're two full grown men, we can't just make out in the kitchen like teenagers at a house party."

"Oh, we definitely can't do that. I'm a respected officer of the law, y'know!" But he looks disheveled, ready to pounce given the slightest hint, and Paul isn't much better off.

"An officer of the law, maybe, but I'd hardly go so far as respected," Paul laughs.

"That's a very fine line you're treading, Reverend." But Hardy's leaning forwards again and with a groan Paul gives in, letting Alec press kisses to his lips and throat, grazing his teeth along the clean shaven jawline until it threatens to mark the pale skin.

Alec's large hand creeps lower to rest on the curve of Paul's arse, pulling him close enough to grind against him, hips rolling. The shorter man hisses a curse and Hardy takes the opportunity for a quick interrogation. "Before we... are you...? I am, but -"

"Yes, I'm clean. The life of a rural vicar doesn't exactly lend itself to much debauchery."

"Alright. Good. That's good."

They kiss again, hard and deep, hands roaming over arms and chests and faces, barely stopping for breath, Hardy crowding him against the counter with long limbs and slim hips. Paul spreads his legs a little to pull him closer, and Alec slides a firm thigh up against his cock, making him whimper.

"Can I...?"

There's a hand on his belt and Hardy's eyes are dark and pleading, pupils blown wide.

"Oh, yes, _please-_"

And Hardy's dropping to his knees, long fingers fumbling at belt and zipper, pulling the edges of the jeans apart until the hard curve of Paul's cock is visible under dark blue boxers. He presses kisses through the thin fabric, then glances up and bares his teeth, biting oh so gently at the delicate flesh as Paul groans and throws back his head. He rests slim fingers on the dark hair in front of him, stroking as Hardy mouths at the fabric.

Questioning eyes look up at him, questioning fingers at his waistband, and Paul nods, before Hardy's firm hands tug down his boxers, easing out his cock and wrapping long fingers around the thick base to guide it towards his mouth. He licks, tentative at first, kissing the tip with spit slick lips before taking it in, eyes half shuttered in concentration.

Paul's moan is echoed below him and his hands tighten briefly in Alec's hair before he forces himself to untwine his fingers from the short strands, patting gently to counter the sting.

It's been a long time and at first Alec is clumsy and uncertain, but it's a skill that returns quickly, hollow cheeks and sweet tongue against velvet hardness. Large hands spread on Paul's hips, holding him back against the cabinets as Hardy takes him deeper, swallowing hard until his throat is tight around the tip, his nose pressed up against wiry curls.

"Oh that's amazing," Paul pants out, running his thumb along Hardy's lips where his cock has stretched them wide. "Your mouth is so fucking hot, you look so good like that." Dark eyes drift open and Hardy looks up at him, pulling back and then taking him deep again with a low rumble of pleasure. "So good, yes, oh! You're amazing, oh your _mouth_-" And Paul can see it in his eyes, what those words do to him, but he won't say anything, not now, not yet. Just keep telling him how good he is, how gorgeous, as Alec sucks and licks and takes him as deep as he can go with intense, feverish energy, half choking himself in his eagerness but pulling him deeper all the same. It's messy and wet and filthy and incredible and Paul can't quite believe it's suit and tie wearing copper to the core Alec Hardy on his knees in front of him.

It's not long before his hips are twitching desperately, minute pulses against the hands holding him back, and he runs a hand through Alec's hair, an obscene benediction. "I'm- Alec, I'm going to-" Hardy doesn't let up, one hand slips between his legs to curl around tight balls and then he's coming, pulsing down his tight throat with a long drawn out groan, Alec swallowing every drop, though he's so deep he hardly has a choice.

When he's got his breath back Hardy is spread tight against him, pressing soft kisses to his neck, but at the slightest pressure he starts to straighten and move away.

"Wait, here, let me." Paul pulls him back in, diving in to kiss swollen lips and taste himself in Hardy's mouth, then turns his attention to his fly until there's enough space for him to slip one hand inside. When he wraps it around Hardy's cock the grateful moan is little more than a sigh against his lips, and it's not long before the taller man is panting and then burying his face in Paul's shoulder as he comes with a choked, bitten off cry, hips stuttering.

"Thank you," he eventually whispers hoarsely into the warm curve of his neck, and Paul smiles against his hair.

"Any time."

He gets a huff of laughter at that. "This isn't quite what I'd planned. We didn't even have tea."

Paul reaches out and clicks the kettle back on; grabs a teatowel and wipes his hand clean as Alec tucks himself away.

They wait, breathing into each other's skin, for the rumbling boil and subsequent silence, before pulling apart. Hardy takes the kettle in a shaking hand, pours the water, and nudges the mug towards Paul without making eye contact.

"Hey," Paul frowns, though he takes the mug and plays with the teabag string. "You OK?"

Hardy exhales shakily, staring down at his own drink. "Not done this for twenty years."

"Men?" That startles a laugh out of him.

"Dating. And - yeah. That too."

"We can take it slow."

"Aye, we've done great at that so far." But he seems more settled now, hand steady as he stirs the tea.

Paul half wants to ask if Hardy wants to go to bed, taking it slow be damned, but he's pretty sure that's the wrong approach so instead suggests the sofa, where they curl up - well, he curls up, Hardy slouches against the other end - and drink their tea.

He can feel his eyes closing, the room warm and cozy after a long evening, and forces himself to stand. "I better go."

Alec nods. "Souls to save."

"Something like that."

"I'll see y'out."

They hover by the door, neither of them quite sure where they stand. Hardy moves first, holding out a hand; he's learned that lesson before.

Paul shakes it firmly; strength matched with solid strength. He lingers when letting go. "Could I hug you? I know you've got a reputation to maintain, but I promise I won't tell anyone."

A grin creeps across Hardy's face. "You've not been talking to Miller then."

"What? Why, what would she tell me?"

He shakes his head. "A hug would be - nice. Yes."

Paul steps forward and embraces him, one arm around his shoulders and the other at his waist, bodies pressed together from thigh to throat. Hardy's arms go around him immediately, instinctively, but it takes a long moment before he relaxes, softening in his arms with a sigh.

When they finally break apart, Hardy's pupils are blown wide again, and Paul has to resist the urge to grab hold of him and never let go.

He presses a quick, final kiss to Hardy's cheek, to the soft freckled skin above dark stubble. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight. I'll call you?" Hardy's eyes are hopeful.

Paul smiles as he tugs open the front door. "Yes," he says. "I'd like that."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter @Kaz_Langston


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